


the shadows that make the girl you undo

by catbug



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Author is trans, Awkward First Times, F/F, First Time, Mutual Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Sex, bernadetta is trans, no beta we die like men, there's no plot but there are a lot of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:08:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21622732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catbug/pseuds/catbug
Summary: “We can make it dark, if you want?” If there was any way to learn how to be suave; to speak in a seductive, controlled manner, she’d love to know. “Snuff the candles… close the curtains… I won’t see you at all.”It's not the easiest thing to spend the night with someone when neither of you are good at being vulnerable, but Bernadetta and Edelgard make it work.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/Bernadetta von Varley
Comments: 10
Kudos: 123





	the shadows that make the girl you undo

**Author's Note:**

> hi i never write but im starved for bernigard content so be gentle with me 
> 
> title is from lights on by fka twigs

“Is there… any way I should not touch you?” The soft voice snapped the archer out of her reverie and, for a moment, she had to swallow down whimpers and pleas for the empress to never _stop_ touching her.

“I-uh…” Bernadetta swallowed. “No? I don’t think so?” Her throat felt cold in the absence of Edelgard’s lips, and she couldn’t help herself from tightening her grip on the empress’ 

Eyes blown wide and hair out of place, Edelgard looks like the picture of beauty and grace in this moment. (At the very least - Bernadetta’s never seen anything more beautiful.) One long, thin but solidly built leg lies between both of the archer’s, and the presence of Edelgard’s sharpened hipbone pressed against her stomach, just above her hardness is the most _agonizing_ pleasure. A bare hand - _bare!_ \- lays on the center of her chest and Bernadetta could swear that no touch will ever compare.

“I only mean, well…” Pale eyes avert for a moment and it’s impossible to hide that blush. “I’ll admit that I am uncertain what your boundaries are.” It takes a few seconds for the cogs in her brain to click into place. “Oh!” Bernadetta gasps in recognition. She’s asking about dysphoria. Of course she is. A wave of affection washes over her, tingling through to her fingertips. Of course Edelgard’s primary concern is her comfort. 

Pushing aside the ache to be touched for just a moment, she responds. “I don’t… know?” It’s certainly not as if Bernadetta has a great deal of experience with this. “I’ll let you know? If something feels wrong.” Her voice squeaks more than she wants it to, but Edelgard only nods before returning her mouth to the archer’s throat, earning a shocked moan. The cool, bare hand slips underneath the line of her dress to curl around her nipple and if death were to come for her in that moment, Bernadetta would understand. Her heart’s beating too rapidly to be sustainable.

It’s bizarre to think about how they got there - years of pining for the empress, turning into weeks of tension whenever they were close, to their hands brushing against each others’ as Edelgard walks her to her room in a pair of pants that demanded Bernadetta’s eyes and then suddenly - 

Bernadetta’s hand has found her way to the thigh between her’s before she even noticed it had moved, cupping along the curve and she waits for one second - two seconds - three seconds - waiting to be reprimanded but it never comes. The flesh is solid but when she squeezes her fingers there’s more give than one would expect. Delirious in this realization, (delirious from the mouth tugging her earlobe, delirious from the flesh filling her hand) she’s bold enough (perhaps not bold - more like her inhibition is failing her.) to slide her hand further and the _warmth_ she feels at her fingertips is almost overwhelming.

She wants to drag her closer, wants to feel what it’s like to be inside her skin, wants to - _wants to be inside of her._ It’s undeniable. 

The moan elicited from her idle touches sends lightning through her veins. Bernadetta pulls back to stare at her empress with wide eyes, a part of her still waiting to be pushed away. “Please - carry on.” Edelgard sighs, looking like heaven with her hair very nearly loose from its buns. She’s never been one to deny a direct request, not from their fearless leader.

Bernadetta presses her fingers harder against the warmth between the thighs of the shorter woman and she swears, she’ll never get used to the sound of Edelgard’s pleasure. “Can I-” _When did she start panting?_ “Can I take this off?” Her free hand gently grasps the form-fitting fabric of Edelgard’s training top.

The hand that flies to stop hers, grasping her wrist is like a bucket of cold water. 

“I’msosorryIdidn’tmeantooverst-” Her rambling is cut off with fingertips pressed to her lips. Edelgard stares down at her, eyes wide and it’s clear she’s searching her hazed brain for words. “I would… prefer not to be bared. Not yet.” In that moment, she looked so vulnerable. If there’s anything Bernadetta can understand, it’s not wanting to be seen. 

After pressing a gentle kiss to the fingertips, the bare fingers more than enough to satisfy her, the archer glances up at the burning candles, the open curtains -

“We can make it dark, if you want?” If there was any way to learn how to be suave, to speak in a seductive, controlled manner, she’d love to know. “Snuff the candles… close the curtains… I won’t see you at all.” Edelgard’s grip on her wrist relaxes as she rubs soothing circles into the sharp hip. A second passes in silence and Bernadetta can feel the apologies boiling up - _I’m sorry, we can stop if you want, It’s okay if you don’t want to continue, I’m sorry_ \- but she’s cut short before she can open her mouth when Edelgard smiles. “Alright.” is her confirmation.

A moment later, the warm weight on top of her is gone and Bernadetta feels chilled, head a little more clear. The curtain closes first and the archer’s eyes land immediately on the backside that has been the center of her attention for hours. There’s undeniable times where the way she stares makes her disgusted with herself - where she worries that her gaze is no better than the men - but surely in this moment, it’s okay? The candles follow, the room darkening with each one until all three are left smoking and the room is dark.

Moonlight peeking through cracks in the curtains outlines a figure only vaguely and if Bernadetta could focus on being afraid of the dark right now, she probably would be. The sound of fabric hitting the floor, however, demands every ounce of her attention. 

The bed shifts, undoubtedly as Edelgard kneels on it, and a moment later a leg swinging around her hips can be felt. Then, weight on top of her again, different this time and Bernadetta chokes before she can moan. Fingertips find her arm first, then the other, and they trail down, leaving goosebumps before gathering the archer’s larger hands in her own. In the darkness it’s hard to know if Bernadetta even has her eyes open in the first place but sight or not, every one of her senses is focused on the woman in her lap. Hands hesitate and Bernadetta wonders if the empress is changing her mind, but the thought is shoved aside as her hands are guided into settling on Edelgard’s waist. 

Feeling starved, feeling thirsty, feeling empty - she doesn’t know how to describe it. The bare skin under her hands is maddening, agonizing, heavenly. There’s breath on her face for a moment, and then lips above her own. She can hear the smile in the amused huff that follows before her lips are claimed, properly this time. 

The world could be falling and she wouldn’t know, anchored to the contact as she is. Bernadetta leans up to chase any movement, every kiss as a hand inches from Edelgard’s waist to the center of her back. Her exploration is paused when she feels the recognizable, jagged indent of rough skin. The muscles under her hands tense, lips still and Bernadetta immediately moves them, dragging over the rest of her skin in voracious appetite for contact. 

_You don’t want to be seen,_ she thinks to herself. _So I won’t see you._

Edelgard seems relieved after that, back relaxing and the archer wonders if the empress knows that she understands better than most. Another time, another conversation, another moment of light. This one can be dark. 

The shared vulnerability is cut from her focus as the woman on top of her begins her own exploration. Long hands press against Bernadetta’s chest, her sharpened ribcage, the small of her waist and she feels strangled in the best of ways. Emboldened, a hand finds its way from Edelgard’s back to her breast and the way it fills her hand downright _poetic_. Her thumb passes over a hardened nub, Edelgard sighs, and she does it again, willing to do whatever it takes to chase those sounds. 

Leaning up to chase distracted lips, Bernadetta finds herself sitting up, the hand remaining on her back pressing them together. The empress’ hand tangles in the hair at the back of her head while the other drags Bernadetta’s thigh up and she recognizes in that moment that they both feel the same way. _Not close enough._

Taking initiative, Bernadetta breaks contact just enough to tug off her own clothes, Edelgard adjusting in her lap as needed. She worries for a moment that her body might be too unfamiliar to be comfortable, that Edelgard won’t be pleased with it, but before those thoughts can formulate into real fears, a hand drags down her stomach to close around her.

Awkward and unpracticed as the touch is it drags out a startled moan, Bernadetta’s legs shaking from it. “Speak to me, Bernadetta.” Her voice sounds softer, more vulnerable in the darkness. Is she imagining that? “I want you to say my name.”

“E-Edelgard,” She chokes out before she can think to do otherwise, forehead resting on the breast of the woman in her lap. “Your hand-” It doesn’t take much to realize that the touch is less for Bernadetta’s benefit and more for the empress to map out what she’s dealing with, but pleasure still comes with it. “I want to-” _Reciprocate_ , the word doesn’t come but she believes the hand curling around Edelgard’s backside is clear enough to convey what it is that she wants. 

If the warmth wasn’t overwhelming before, separated by clothing as it was, the wetness she feels certainly is. The sigh Edelgard gives is painfully dignified and soft and in that moment, she wants to know if there’s a rougher sound, waiting to be dragged out. The archer is delighted to find that her fingers slide right through folds, slick coating the outside as well. Much like how Edelgard began, she finds herself mapping out the flesh at her hand, mouth watering for more reasons than one as she finds the bundle of nerves that makes Edelgard’s hips press against her hand with the barest of whines.

“Can I - a finger -?” She doesn’t quite know how to say it, especially with Edelgard’s thumb swiping over the tip of her length as it is, but the nod she feels at the top of her head is all the answer she needs before her middle digit slips into her entrance.

The angle is awkward at best but Bernadetta doesn’t dare break the contact. Her own hips have begun lightly thrusting into Edelgard’s closed hand without permission but she can’t stop to control herself, panting and moaning with half of her face pressed into scarred flesh. At the very least, she can settle for focusing on the soft, controlled sounds coming from the woman in her lap as she thrusts her finger into her, shortly followed by a second that meets no resistance. 

“Bernadetta,” She sighs her name only a few seconds later and the archer feels every hair on her body stand. “Will you have me?” A free hand tilts up Bernadetta’s chin and she doesn’t need any more invitation than that. “Are you sure?” She pants as she draws her finger from the inviting heat. It’s not her place to guess about Edelgard’s sexual history, but she had expected more preparation. The breathed _yes_ against her cheek before her lips are claimed erases any hesitance. 

Easing Edelgard’s hips down as gently as she can, the archer lines them up, feeling fire light up every inch of her as she makes contact with warmth - with wet - with _Edelgard._ The woman in her lap, sensing a moment of delay, begins slowly lowering herself and it’s as if Bernadetta never once knew how to breathe. 

She doesn’t know if it takes seconds, or minutes, or years for the entirety of her length to be enveloped but every inch of her shakes. She doesn’t know how she compares to others - has never had the opportunity to, but she presses against something inside of Edelgard and her moan sounds so _ragged_ \- 

The moment she’s certain the empress isn’t in any discomfort, Bernadetta wraps an arm around her waist, the other behind her to support her, and begins moving underneath her.

The sensation is lightning - fire - ice - any and every kind of shock one can receive mixed into one and she’s seeing stars with every in and out, tripled by Edelgard’s hips moving on top of her, meeting each thrust. Her stomach begins coiling with each ragged, breathless moan given by the _miracle_ in her lap and Bernadetta wants to cry out every praise, every worship she could think of; wants to embed herself into Edelgard’s skin like a piece of embroidery, wants her reverence and love to be plain for all to see. 

Time loses meaning as they move together. After a time, Bernadetta’s hand is brought between them and she follows the wordless instruction to press her fingers against that bundle of nerves she found earlier. She knows she’s all thumbs and likely not very good but Edelgard doesn’t seem to mind, just moans her name as her hips tense further and further - 

Edelgard’s climax comes first, her only warning the hitching breaths of someone who can’t make a sound and the archer holds her own breath to keep herself under control, letting the empress ride her through it. She waits until the telltale huff signals that it’s passed over before pulling out to rut against the inside of Edelgard’s thigh, spending there with an embarrassingly loud cry. 

They collapse back onto the bed a moment later, a pillow bouncing onto the floor with the movement. Lips hastily find hers and Bernadetta marvels at the ragged pants breathed into her mouth, the ravenous way her composed empress kisses her, the love she finds herself putting into it. 

In the aftermath of it, all she can think about is holding her. Gently easing Edelgard onto her side, (She’s lighter than one would expect, muscles densely packed as they are.) Bernadetta ignores the approaching numbness from a body on her arm and ghosts her free hand up and down the side of the woman she adores. Exhaustion has its hold on her as her breath stabilizes but she doesn’t feel tired enough to sleep. The archer’s hazy focus settles on the long hand sorting her matted hair away from her forehead. 

Something about the darkness laying over them keeps her from being afraid, and she can only assume that Edelgard feels the same way. Maybe another time (another time?) they can explore each other with eyes wide open but she knows it would have frightened her to be seen, too. Bernadetta holds her for a long time, (or maybe just a few minutes?) silence built from her reverence and only broken by the soft sounds of stolen kisses until - 

“Will you stay the night?” Bernadetta blurts out before she can stop her mouth. Immediately, she wants to kick herself. How bold of her to presume that she wasn’t a disappointment, that Edelgard is pleased enough to want to stay, to want to see her again, that at the very least the empress doesn’t want to go back to her own room to wash off - 

“I will.” The sleep at the edges of her voice is so startlingly grounding that Bernadetta can do nothing but draw her closer. “If you’ll have me.” 

“Please.” the archer sighs, and the soft kiss pressed to her lips lays to rest the last of her fears for the night. She doesn't need to worry about coming too quickly, handling Edelgard too clumsily, about what this means or what will come of this. Those concerns can wait until the morning. For now, she's content with nodding off, the world limited to the space between her and her lover.


End file.
